North American Detective: I am Proficient in All Kinds of Gun Quick Draws Chapter 255 171: Lucifer Game Organization's Attention, Snat

Murphy's eyes glead.

A single Ga Coin from the organization could be exchanged for over ten thousand US dollars in cash—laundered cash, at that.

Five coins ant an inco of at least fifty thousand US dollars!

My luck is amazing today!

She hung up the phone. Whistling, Murphy prepared to head back to the café.

She had actually co today on official business; it was just a coincidence that she ran into Dean and thought of making so quick cash.

Murphy was still basking in the glow of her earnings. She humd a cheerful tune as she pulled open the back door.

The next mont, the joy on Murphy's face froze.

In the alleyway behind the door, where she thought Dean had left, there he was, holding a crude radio and grinning at her. "Surprise!"

Surprise? This is what you fucking call a surprise?!

Just a mont ago, I was thinking about buying a few more handbags this month. The next, it was as if I'd plumted into Hell, seeing Satan waving at !

"Fuck!"

Murphy didn't hesitate. Her right knee shot out—quick, accurate, and fierce—aiming for Dean's groin.

Dean dodged the lethal attack in a flash. As he evaded it, he grabbed Murphy by the hair and yanked her head back, exposing her pale neck.

A bone-chilling terror surged through Murphy's heart. She seed to realize what was about to happen and tried to plead for rcy.

SHLICK!

A crimson mist erupted from Murphy's throat, finally blooming into a morbid shower that symbolized her life ebbing away...

After a dozen seconds or so, Murphy's beautiful eyes, monts before wide with fright yet still bright, now stared blankly, devoid of spirit.

Dropping the corpse, Dean flicked his right hand, and the blade between his fingers vanished, neatly retracted.

Towards anyone with malicious intent—man, woman, or child—he had only one principle: physical annihilation!

The poker-faced waiter, who had been at the front desk, appeared behind Dean. "Agent Dean, you've made such a bloody ss. It's going to take a lot of effort to clean up."

"Alright." Dean took out a wad of bills and placed them on Murphy's still-warm body. "This is for the cleanup. I still have to deal with a friend's case, so I'll trouble you to take care of this woman's body."

The poker-faced waiter licked his lips. "Don't worry. She was just a minor recruit trying to sell your information. Caught red-handed, so she's dead. Just dead. I'll dispose of her cleanly!"

Dean nodded. He walked over to where Murphy had made her phone call, retrieved a pigeon-egg-sized listening device, and quickly left the deserted alley.

Murphy had thought he was gone. In reality, Dean had gone straight to the front desk and summoned the person in charge—the poker-faced waiter—to listen to Murphy's phone call with him.

After all, killing soone on their turf without giving a heads-up would be rather impolite.

As for leaving her alive, there was no point. For intelligence agencies like the NSA and FBI, whatever needed to be known about the Lucifer Ga Organization was already known. As for things they couldn't know, those weren't accessible to a minor character like Murphy anyway.

Killing her settled it.

I just didn't expect the 'Lucifer Gaming Organization' would still end up targeting . I just don't know what they're planning!

Dean had intended to call Anthony, but, unusually, the call wouldn't connect. He decided he would email Anthony that evening to explain the situation, hoping for so guidance.

「By the roadside.」

Harry, sowhat bored, lit his third cigarette. Dean had co out, complained of a stomach ache, and gone to the restroom. He'd been gone for nearly ten minutes now.

Harry had good reason to suspect Dean was constipated.

Just as his mind began to wander, the missing Dean reappeared before him. "Let's go, Harry."

Harry nodded, ready to start the car, when he suddenly sniffed and looked at Dean in surprise. "Buddy, don't tell you couldn't take a dump and strained so hard you caused so major bleeding down there?"

He slled a faint scent of blood on Dean.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Say one more word, and I'll make *you* hemorrhage!"

Harry flinched, quickly opened the car door, and drove back to the precinct.

In the car, Dean took out the note he had obtained from the coffee shop. The information on it was rather brief:

Toy Serial Killer:

"Sein, male, 44 years old, from Alabama State.

He was a surgeon who had served ti in prison for severe dical malpractice.

He had a perverted obsession with human tissue and liked to knock people unconscious before using 'toys' to replace parts of their bodies.

'Take one thing, leave one thing!'

Sein was obsessed with this ga.

At that stage, the victims were only maid; none had died.

His 'playfulness' escalated. He started 'fixing' victims to steel pipes and then directly transforming parts of their bodies into toys.

Until one mistake. Sein left his own blood at a cri scene.

Eventually, the police identified him from the blood evidence. In his basent, they found the missing body parts of nurous victims.

Although there wasn't a complete chain of evidence to confirm Sein was the Toy Serial Killer, special circumstances called for special asures.

Eventually, Sein was convicted on charges of serial torture and murder. He was imprisoned in March 1998 and has remained there ever since.

After his imprisonnt, the 'toy murder substitution' cases in Alabama ceased."

Seeing the last few lines, Dean thought he had misread them.

Henry's manner of death was undoubtedly consistent with Sein's M.O. His eyes had been taken and made into toys, parts of his body were pierced causing massive blood loss, and the surgical technique was sophisticated... All of this matched the information in the report.

The only problem was Sein was still incarcerated in an Alabama prison. He had no opportunity to commit the cri!

Could it be a copycat cri?

Dean stroked his chin and looked at Harry, who was driving. "Buddy, I asked so contacts, and they said Henry's death strongly resembles the M.O. of a psycho called the 'Toy Serial Killer.' Ever heard of him?"

"Toy Serial Killer?" Harry hesitated and shook his head. "Doesn't ring a bell. Otherwise, with a death as 'unique' as Henry's, I'd definitely rember it."

"Alright. Then we can only hope Daisy can dig up so information on this guy."

Dean closed his eyes and said no more.

「The next day.」

Dean arrived at the office early. Harry was already there. The poor guy's eyes were bloodshot, and he reeked of stale cigarette smoke. He looked like a lovelorn simp, or perhaps a man who'd just discovered he'd been duped into raising another man's child for over a decade; the light had vanished from his eyes.

Dean covered his nose. "You didn't smoke all night, did you?"

"Pretty much." Harry stared at the ceiling, his voice listless. "I told Sarah yesterday about her brother's... misfortune. Sarah was devastated. I was trying to comfort her, but after she tearfully thanked , she called another woman over. My daughter even calls that woman 'Baba'…"

Harry's face was filled with grief and indignation. "That damned bitch! She just used as a tool to have a baby and never even considered letting see my child in the future. And after she found out her brother died, she flat-out told I can't see my kid anymore, or she'll make lose my job!"

Dean said sympathetically, "Okay, buddy. Sounds like you got involved in lesbian surrogacy. She didn't even bother to pay for sperm from the black market and chose to freeload off you instead. That's pretty ssed up."

Harry felt even worse after this 'comfort.' He tilted his head back, fighting.

A king shouldn't cry over a woman! I can't cry!

Daisy and the others hadn't arrived yet. Dean yawned. He was about to pour himself so coffee and try to console Harry further.

CREAK.

The office door was pushed open. Holz rushed in, looking flustered, and only relaxed when he saw soone was already there.

Seeing this, Dean asked doubtfully, "Buddy, what's so urgent it couldn't be said over the phone?"

"Because it wasn't convenient to call!" Holz said rapidly. "Early this morning, people from Alabama showed up with an authorization slip from the Chief of the Detective Bureau, preparing to take Henry's body!"

"What!" Dean's gaze sharpened. "Why? How did Alabama get involved with us? And Henry only died yesterday—how did they find out so quickly?"

"Because I..." Holz looked completely helpless. "I analyzed the blood under Henry's fingernails. The results showed genetic material belonging to an inmate currently serving ti in Alabama. Out of curiosity, I called them. And first thing this morning, they showed up. They claid that the findings on Henry's body could lead to overturning that inmate's conviction, so they have to take the body as evidence."

Damn it! They're stealing my case?

Dean grabbed his coat, his expression grim, and headed for the forensics lab.